When a modeling career ends

When young girls learn that I was a New York model, their eyes light up. How glamorous and exciting it must have been, to see yourself in magazines, to do runway modeling, to travel for location shoots. It was exciting, plus it was financially rewarding. They would light up even more when they heard how much I earned. In the 1960s, the going rate was $300 a day and $65 an hour, which was a lot at that time.

I worked and lived through many seasons of fashion. As seasons change, so does a fashion model’s look. I began to notice younger-than-high-school-age models who were being booked for their youthful looks. I remember seeing a New York Magazine cover of a young girl modeling a black teddy. Her heavy, seductive makeup revealed a woman with life experiences in pictures, but once the makeup was removed, reality showed a young girl. A new era was taking over and my all-American look was phasing out.

I thought it might be difficult to face the end of my career, but I found it wasn’t that hard. I remember one time when I was sitting in the waiting area with other models to be interviewed for a potential booking. Gazing at one of them, I got the feeling she was trying to look younger. She was wearing a frilly long-sleeve blouse that drew attention to her hands. They showed a history that cannot be covered up unless you are wearing gloves. You can treat brown spots with bleaching creams, but you cannot hide the veins, the cracking, thin skin and the appearance of arthritic joints. They age like everything else in our bodies. No amount of exercise can avoid the pull of gravity. The body shifts and resets itself as it transcends through the aging process. And, modeling ends.

In 1978, I left New York to return to my California roots. My career had run its course. The all-American look that promoted my career showed a healthy body with a big smile. The pouty looks and rail-thin bodies of today’s models jump into the air for an action shot with a model smile. When I jumped into the air for my action shot, my smile revealed its soul.

The fashions of today seem to reflect the chaos and disconnect we are living in right now. Fabrics don’t agree with each other nor do the accessories that are added to them. Hemlines are erratic, not straight and crooked. Jackets display uneven front panels. Everything is mixed up. There’s nothing in the fashion magazines that I could possibly wear unless I wanted to find an outfit I could use for a Halloween party.

Now that I’ve seen the “fashion show” of fantasy, I resort to my own look. My wardrobe continues to be a monotone collection of blue jeans and an array of T-shirts, sweatshirts, hand-knit sweaters and casual jackets. When I go to the gym, I have my collection of tights and workout pants. My makeup is simple: moisturizer and sun guard cream followed by eye concealer, blusher and an eyebrow pencil to brush in color to my graying, thinning eyebrows. I am the fashion statement of simplicity.

Sue Curran is a San Rafael resident. IJ readers are invited to share their stories of love, dating, parenting, marriage, friendship and other experiences for our How It Is column, which runs Tuesdays in the Lifestyles section. All stories must not have been published in part or in its entirety previously. Send your stories of no more than 600 words to lifestyles@marinij.com. Please write How It Is in the subject line. The IJ reserves the right to edit them for publication. Please include your full name, address and a daytime phone number.